The Curious Case of Professor Byleth
by TheGiantRock
Summary: There was something odd about Professor Byleth...


Hilda gave a tired sigh as she yanked her axe out from the halfway decapitated corpse of her enemy. "Finally. That's the last of them," she said to herself. "Now to catch up with the others. Ugh, I'm all sweaty now!"

"I wouldn't worry about it."

"Aiieee!" Hilda reacted quickly, swinging her axe in a wide defensive arc with a full one-eighty twist.

Her eyes settled on the form of Professor Byleth calmly ducking underneath the spray of blood from her axe. He didn't even arrest his forward stride, walking right past her to examine the former bandit at her feet, uncaring of the heart attack he almost gave her. She could see him taking in everything, from the state of the battlefield (streaks of blood painting the floors), to the numerous wounds on her foe, to the state of her equipment.

She opened her mouth to complain, but stopped when the Professor's tranquil blue eyes settled on her. There was something about his gaze that always captured her attention.

"… You did well," he said simply, and despite everything she found herself smiling.

"Well, thanks," she said. _I don't _like_ working like this, but if I have to then I'll do my best_, is what she thought but didn't say. Let it not be said that her diplomatic training was in vain. "I feel bad taking up so much of your attention and hogging all of this valuable combat experience, though."

The professor blinked. Hilda was experienced enough at Byleth-ese to interpret that as a positive signal.

"Plus, I feel like I've earned a reward for doing so well!" she said, tilting her head for maximum charm. "So, why not let someone else take the front-lines in the next battle? C'mon, what do you say, Professor? Please?"

There was a ghost of a smile on the Professor's lips, but it could've been her imagination. "No."

"Aw, c'mon," Hilda complained, changing her tactics and stomping her foot. "It's not fair! I'm always on the front!"

"Still no."

"Aw, lay off Teach, will ya?" Claude said, strolling in past her to stand at the Professor's side. He whistled, throwing an arm around their teacher's shoulder and gesturing at the fallen bandit. "The others have already re-grouped at the tents, and are - wow, you really did a number on this guy, Hilda. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"You're always on my bad side, Claude," Hilda answered, raising her nose to the air pompously.

"Who, me?" Claude raised his arms in mock offense. "But I'm so lovable!"

"For all I know, _you're_ the one sending me to the front lines with you," Hilda said. "I know you and the Professor draft up our combat plans together. I don't blame you for wanting to be close to me – I mean, who doesn't? – but women don't like guys that are too pushy, y'know."

"I'll have you know the women _love_ me," Claude said, smoothly ignoring the rest of her argument.

"Love your position, maybe," Hilda said.

Claude winced. "Et tu, Hilda?"

"Maybe I wouldn't mind so much if I had a proper weapon," Hilda said. "But this axe is… honestly a rusted piece of junk! If I'm going to fight with a blunt weapon, I may as well go all of the way and just get a warhammer."

"Think of it as training," Claude said reasonably. "We're not always going to be perfectly equipped with shiny swords and armor. Sometimes, we'll have to improvise with what we can find on the battlefield. Better that we find out how good we are at that now, against some unorganized thugs instead of against a proper enemy."

"_Or_, we can train ourselves on always having proper weapons, and learn weapon maintenance," Hilda argued back. "How often do you see the Knights of Seiros fighting with rusted weapons? Don't answer, it's _never_."

"Getting all silver equipment like the Knights have doesn't come cheap," Claude admonished, actually wagging a finger at her. "Not that you'd know, since I'm pretty sure you've never haggled for prices in your life."

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Because you're soooo much more worldly than I am, Claude."

The Professor watched the byplay silently, his impassive visage concealing his thoughts.

"I'll have you know that I am, as a matter of fact, more experienced than you when it comes to these kinds of things," Claude said, crossing his arms. "No silver weapons, Hilda."

"But I'm not asking for silver weapons!" Hilda said, stomping her feet again. "Even basic iron weapons are fine! Anything is honestly better than all of this rusted junk we're carting around. Like, how do you even use a rusted bow and arrows?"

"I content myself with the fact that every rusted and re-used arrow is probably giving my opponent some kind of disease," Claude admitted. He raised a hand when Hilda looked ready to protest. "Right, right. We'll review our budget and look into getting iron weapons. I promise, Hilda."

"You promise that you'll look into it, or that you'll get us actual weapons?" Hilda pressed.

"We'll do everything we can to get it done," Claude said evasively, and Hilda sighed.

"You'd better," she said petulantly, bending down to wipe her axe clean. "I hate having to work up such a sweat when I don't have to."

"Don't worry about it," the Professor interjected, finally speaking up.

Both Hilda and Claude paused. Hilda looked up at the Professor, eyes shining with undisguised hope.

"You mean… you're going to get us better weapons?"

"No," he answered. Only the tiniest curl of his lips hinted at his amusement. "Being sweaty. Don't worry about it."

"Huh?" Hilda said, clearly puzzled. "Oh yeah, you said that before, too. Is this going to be some kind of 'hard work and sweat builds character' kind of -"

"No. Just priorities," the Professor said, deadpan. "There's blood all over your new boots."

Hilda looked down at her boots and _screamed_. "Why didn't anyone say something sooner?!" she cried, grabbing at Claude. "Ugh!"

"Hey, take it easy now-" Claude started, breaking off with a yelp when Hilda seized his shoulder cape and yanked it violently from his shirt. "Hey!"

"Awww, my precious new boots! How could I not notice!" Hilda said, smearing the blood off with Claude's cape over his protests. "I have to get this cleaned off right away!"

"I'll be expecting my cape back! _Without blood!_" Claude called out as Hilda marched away. He turned to face the Professor with a weary sigh. "And you did that on purpose, didn't you? You totally knew she'd react like that."

Professor Byleth shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hilda hasn't been the only one asking those questions," Claude said, changing the topic when it was clear that was all he was going to get out of their taciturn teacher. "It's getting a bit harder to deflect as our armory continues to deteriorate. Leonie can only do so much when it comes to maintenance… but don't worry, I'll find a way to put a good spin on it. I always do."

The Professor was silent. Claude chanced a glance back, and found the Professor actually smiling at him.

"Whoa, what's with that knowing look, Teach?" he asked uncertainly.

"Very good," the Professor nodded approvingly. "Planned?"

"Uh… you lost me," Claude said.

The Professor gestured at Claude. "Good knight."

He pointed away, in the direction that Hilda had stomped off. "Bad knight."

He crossed his arms, looking at Claude eye-to-eye. "Planned?"

Claude met his gaze for all of five seconds before sighing with a chuckle. "Drat. You know, you're really perceptive despite being so quiet most of the time. I thought our performance was perfect. What gave it away?"

The Professor's answering smile was a brief thing, but it was as enigmatic as ever. Claude could only describe it as endlessly fascinating. Sometimes, it felt like he could read his teacher's mood with even the smallest changes in expression.

"Well, since you saw through us, I guess I'll go for the longshot and ask anyway," Claude said. "I've checked with everyone in our house and the smiths at Garreg Mach, and you haven't been spending any of your Church allowance on new weapons, shields or combat consumables… so where's that gold going? Why are we all fighting with rusted weapons? What are you saving up for?"

"Rusted weapons are great for combat experience," the Professor said, and Claude blinked. He hadn't actually been expecting the Professor to answer him. "It slows you down and dulls your attack power, but it's great for training against bandits of this caliber."

"Wait, so this has _actually_ been for the sake of training?" Claude asked incredulously.

"Weapon proficiency," the Professor answered. "And as for the gold…"

The Professor trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. He stared at the direction of camp, where Hilda had left minutes ago. When his gaze returned to rest on Claude, it could only be described as _fond_. "Very well. Follow me."

* * *

There was a gentle set of knocks on Claude's dormitory door.

"Claude? Are you here? It's me, Hilda."

He didn't answer.

The gentle knocking was replaced by a strong pounding on Claude's door.

"Hey, Claude!" Raphael's powerful voice echoed through his room. "You alright in there? I dunno what's going on, but everyone's outside here worried about you."

Claude groaned and lifted his head from his study desk.

The pounding on his door halted and was replaced by a rapid staccato of impatient taps. "Some of us having _better_ things to do with our time than worry about our layabout House Leader when he-"

Lysithea's rant was cut short as Claude opened his door to see almost the entirety of the Golden Deer House gathered outside of his room. The youngest member of their group paused as she took in the appearance of her leader, specifically…

"Why is your forehead so red?" Lysithea blurted, annoyance replaced by sheer curiosity.

"You may as well come in," Claude said. "Before we gather any more attention."

Indeed, some of the other students in the dormitory weren't even bothering to hide their interest. Claude shepherded the group and closed the door behind him, taking in the team. _His_ team.

Hilda tossed her bright pink pigtails behind her head. "So, I'm… guessing this has to do with our plan?"

"Plan?" Ignatz asked quizzically, adjusting his glasses. "What plan?"

"The plan to find out why the Professor isn't buying or maintaining equipment," Marianne said quietly, hands clasped at her front.

Hilda started. "You knew about that, Marianne? I thought it was just Claude and I."

"I'd have helped if someone told me," Leonie said. "Weapons maintenance has been brutal recently. There's only so much I can do without actually paying for a smith."

Lysithea folded her arms. Claude figured she was going for an imperial look, but it couldn't really be described as anything other than adorable. "I bet you two concocted some kind of childish plan. Did you considering just _asking_ the Professor?"

"Ahem." Hilda cleared her throat. "To get back on track, yes, Claude and I have been trying to find out where all of the gold allotted to our House has been going," Hilda answered. "It's not that we don't trust the –"

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"… It's not that we don't trust the Professor's judge-"

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"It's not that we-"

_Thump._

"Claude," Hilda said patiently. "Why are you banging your head against your desk?"

_Thump_.

("Huh. So _that's_ why his forehead is so red," Lysithea said.)

"Because, dear Hilda," Claude said back evenly. "If I don't, I might remember the fact that our lives are in Teach's hands every battle."

"The Professor has been nothing but excellent when it comes to coordinating us, though…" Ignatz said uncertainly.

_Thump._

"This seems like an unusual time to be having such doubts," Marianne said in tacit support of the archer.

_Thump_.

"Hey," said Raphael suddenly. "Where's Lorenz?"

Claude's snicker started quietly, then grew into a full blown hysterical laugh.

* * *

"Professor, are you in?" Lorenz asked, knocking on the door to Byleth's private quarters. "I simply wish to return your primer on horseback spellcasting."

When no answer was forthcoming, he frowned.

"Perhaps I shall simply leave it on his desk," he mused, turning the doorknob.

The book in his hands clattered to the ground. Lorenz fell to his knees.

"I have discovered the abode of the Goddess," he whispered.

* * *

"… Is it really that bad, Claude?" Hilda asked, putting a hand on Claude's shoulder.

Claude looked straight into her eyes for a moment. Seemingly satisfied by what he found, he stood up, then walked to each member of the Golden Deer house in turn, looking each of them in the eye. Leonie, confident and poised. Raphael, earnest and cheerful. Ignatz, who fidgeted uncomfortably and reddened at the direct attention but looked determinedly at his leader. Marianne, who immediately averted her gaze. Lysithea, whose impetuous glance couldn't hide her concern.

He walked to his window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the monastery of Garreg Mach. Sometimes it felt like a microcosm of all of Fodlan. Even here, there were insiders and outsiders. Nobles and commoners. Merchants and beggars. Knights and bandits.

He looked to the sky.

_Is it the same up there?_ He wondered. _Are there Gods who watch over us, divided again into insiders and outsiders? Or do they transcend that? Do they have the answers I seek?_

He took a breath.

"Yeah so the Professor's using our weapons budget to fund his tea party addiction."

""""""He's _what?!_""""""

* * *

**A/N: I spent like 120+ hours on a Hard Mode play-through optimizing the hell out of everything. Then the game ended and I realized I didn't need to do ****_any_**** of that. Three Houses is still great, though, and I just felt like writing something. Might continue it as thoughts come to me, but free time is a valuable resource for me right now.**

**I'll write more on the Awakening SI whenever I can. Cheers, friends!**


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